You can’t go home again

I keep thinking of Hilary Mantel, winner of the Booker Prize, twice. The New Yorker did a wonderful article on her in which she referenced an old belief that one must return to one's own country within 10 years of leaving or risk never fitting in again (she lived abroad for 9 years before returning... Continue Reading →

Go

When I was 15 I lived in Australia for a year as an exchange student. Already pounding against the boundaries of what I knew, I picked the furthest place I could, where I could still be understood. Plopped down in the outback, or very near to it, I went horse riding on a cattle ranch... Continue Reading →

Go to the dogs

California is hot. Then cold. Then hot. Cold. Nothing that  happened the day before can prepare you for the next. I've taken to wearing my swimsuit under my parka. I've been back for 2 months. I felt a tug, or more like I was thrown overboard after attaching my anchor to a speeding boat passing... Continue Reading →

One–the place of silence

I can't seem to catch my breath; I collapse at night. While never exactly remembering sleeping before, the experience has always been tangible, as if I could reach backwards into the night just past and almost touch the place I had been. Now I fall into darkness and morning rushes towards me with no understanding... Continue Reading →

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